


Everything Has Changed

by ellalightwood



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 01:57:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15764253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellalightwood/pseuds/ellalightwood
Summary: Based on To All The Boys I've Loved Before by Jenny Han, and the 2018 movie of the same name. Alec writes love letters to each of the five boys he has had a crush on - Magnus Bane, Jace Herondale, Raphael Santiago, Simon Lewis and Mark Blackthorn - and keeps them hidden in a box in his room. But one day, the letters get sent out...





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?”

I look up from my locker, and my heart skips a beat. It’s him. It’s really him, right here, right in front of my eyes, talking to _me_ of all people. I’m half tempted to check over my shoulder to see if he’s actually talking to someone else, because it seems impossible that a guy like him would want to converse with a lowly being such as myself. But no, he’s definitely talking to me, looking right at me, leaning casually against the locker next to mine. Holy shit. Up close, his eyes are even more beautiful, sparkling green and gold with a little hazel around the iris, seeming to almost glow with his charming smile, outlined by thick black eyelashes, emphasised by subtly glittering black eyeliner. Crap. Am I staring? Do I look weird? I should say something, right? But what do you say when you’re confronted by the unearthly specimen of human perfection that is Magnus Bane?

“Uh. Yeah. Sure.” I manage to remember how to move my jaw to make somewhat intelligible words come out, shutting my locker in the process. Why am I like this? I don’t still have a crush on him, I’m sure of it. So why can’t I ever seem to act normal when I’m around him?

Still smiling, the smile making adorable crinkles appear around his eyes, Magnus reaches into his back pocket and withdraws something that looks like a piece of paper, or an envelope. There’s something vaguely familiar about the smooth, thick, cream-coloured material, the heart-shaped sticker used to stick down the flap on the back, the address in green ink on the front as he turns it over in his hand – and in that moment, all the breath leaves my body and my stomach drops out of my pants and onto the floor.

It’s not – it’s not – it can’t be—

“So, umm…I was really flattered that you, uh, sent this to me. Really. I – I had no idea you felt that way about me. It was very sweet of you, and…I kind of feel like an asshole saying this, but the reality is that it’s not going to happen. Y’know, because I’m dating someone else – are you alright?”

I must look like a ghost. All the blood has drained from my face, and I’m finding myself unable to think, unable to move, unable to speak. Magnus is saying something, but his voice seems to be coming from far away, drowned out by the buzzing in my ears. _What the fuck?_ Is this some kind of joke? How did he get it? Did I send it by accident? No. Did someone else send it? But who? Nobody else knows about the letters. I am ninety-nine percent sure the letters were there when I left the house this morning. So how did Magnus get hold of this one? And what about – _oh, God._ The other letters. Are they gone, too?

“How,” I say hoarsely once I’ve mustered the ability to speak. “How did you get that?”

“What? This?” Magnus looks down at the letter in his hand. “You sent it to me. Didn’t you?” He sees the look on my face, and comprehension dawns on his own. “Was I…not supposed to read this?”

Before I can answer, I hear a voice calling my name. A very familiar voice. “Hey, Alec!”

_Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no._

Jace Herondale is pushing his way through the throng of students beginning to flood the corridor, his blond hair ruffled like he just got out of bed. He gets just close enough that I can see an envelope in his hand, this one pale blue, and I don’t have to see the address on the front to know what it is. I want the ground to open beneath my feet right this second, to swallow me up so I don’t have to face this awkward conversation. _Jesus fucking Christ._ Jace can’t know I like him. Liked him. Whatever. Jace is my best friend. We’ve known each other for years. I don’t want him to think – it’d ruin our friendship – things would never be the same between us if he knew. And if he’s read the letter, that means he does know, which means – he thinks I like him and he knows what I wrote about him and he’s never going to look at me the same way ever again and he might not _want_ to look at me ever again and oh God oh God oh God oh God w _hat do I do what do I do what do I do what do I do what the hell do I do about this bloody situation?_

It happens so fast, I almost don’t realise what I’m doing. One moment, I’m watching Jace walk towards me with purposeful strides, the lights in the corridor turning his hair golden. The next, Magnus and I are collapsing against my locker, and my lips are on his, and his eyes are wide in shock and his hands are touching my waist and my hands are holding the smooth brown skin of his face and, for a moment, I think I’m actually enjoying this, before I remember that I’m in school, and Jace is standing behind me, and e _veryone is watching._ I pull myself away with a gasp, glancing at Jace and allowing myself a split second to take in his dumbstruck expression before tearing off, down the corridor, hardly noticing where I’m going before I find myself stumbling into the boys’ bathroom and slumping down on the lid of the toilet in the nearest cubicle.

_Oh my God._

Three things hit me as i catch my breath and gather my senses. One, I just kissed _the_ Magnus Bane in front of a corridor full of students and teachers, including Jace. Two, Jace now thinks I like Magnus (which, to be fair, isn’t _technically_ untrue) and also knows I’m gay. And three – occurring to me with a horrible sinking feeling, making me feel vaguely sick – not only Jace, but now _the entire school_ will know I’m gay. I just outed myself in front of everybody to get out of an awkward conversation with my best friend and former crush. _Well done, Alec._ Christ. Way to make things _even more_ difficult for myself.

“Hey.” Someone knocks on the cubicle door. “Lightwood? You in there?”

 _Great._ I recognise this voice as well, soft Mexican undertones under a New York accent, deeper than I remember but nevertheless unmistakeable. Slowly, I open the cubicle door, and look up to see Raphael Santiago staring curiously down at me. I would ask why he’s here, but I know exactly why he’s here, because if Jace and Magnus got their letters, that must mean that Raphael got his too. I’m inwardly cringing already as I remember what I wrote to him. I was twelve. He was my first crush. I wrote long paragraphs describing the darkness of his eyes and the shape of his nose and – for some reason – my weird obsession with his hands. I wrote that I was going to learn Spanish so I could – I don’t know – impress him, I guess? Learn some Spanish pick-up lines? Ugh. Totally, utterly, unbelievably embarrassing.

“So,” Raphael says.

“I know why you’re here,” I interrupt him. “Look, I – I didn’t mean – I was twelve, okay? It was a long time ago. I don’t know how that letter got out, but it wasn’t meant to get out, I didn’t mean for you to read it, they were just some dumb private thoughts, I’m sorry if it was weird, I promise I don’t still have a crush on you—”

Raphael holds up a hand to stop me. “Whoa. Okay. I don’t mind, you know? I liked what you wrote. It was cute. It made me blush.” He smiles, then glances around as if checking we’re definitely alone in the bathroom. “The thing is…I’m not into, y’know, that kind of thing. I’m aromantic and asexual. I’m not interested in romantic or sexual relationships. So…sorry to disappoint, I guess?”

“Oh. No. That’s okay,” I reply quickly. “I’m, uh, not interested either. I mean, I w _as,_ but like I said, I don’t have a crush on you anymore.”

Raphael nods. “Good. That’s good. Well,” he hands me the letter. “I appreciated it, anyway. You write very nicely.”

With that, he walks out of the bathroom, giving me a small wave over his shoulder before the door closes behind him, leaving me standing in the middle of the room, staring at the metallic green envelope in my hand.


	2. Chapter 2

“I don’t actually like you. I just had to make it look like I liked you so somebody else wouldn’t think I liked them.”

We’re sitting in a café after school, side by side on tall stools with red cushions, drinking coffee in red and white Styrofoam cups, our knees very close together. I can see Magnus’s knees through the rips in his black leather jeans, a tantalising strip of skin peeking above them when his shirt rides up. I keep having to remind myself not to stare, remind myself that I absolutely do not have a crush on Magnus Bane anymore. What would be the point, anyway? Someone as effortlessly gorgeous as Magnus would never date someone like me.

“Oh? Who would that be?” he asks, one eyebrow quirked up in amusement.

I almost don’t tell him, but the words are spilling out of me already, as if by magic. “Jace Herondale. He also got a letter, so you can see how awkward and complicated that one’s gonna get if he thinks that I actually—”

“Wait, wait, wait. Jace Herondale? Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah.” I grimace. “Clary Fairchild. Just goes to show what a great taste I have in guys. Half of them are either straight, taken or not interested.”

“I’m not,” Magnus says. “Not straight, I mean. I’m bisexual.”

I give him a look. _Duh._ “I know,” I tell him. “Everyone knows.” Magnus is one of the few people at our school who is totally open about his sexuality. He just does his thing and doesn’t care what anyone says about it, and this attitude has actually earned him the respect of most of the student body. That, and the fact that everyone is terrified of his girlfriend, Camille Belcourt. I look at him, at his carefully gelled hair and his multiple ear piercings and the dark purple varnish on his nails, and wish I was as comfortable in my own skin as he so obviously is.

“So, I’m not the only guy who got a letter?” Magnus pretends to be offended. “Wow. You really think you’re special and then you find out he wrote love letters to _two_ guys.”

“Five.” My mouth feels dry. “I wrote five letters.”

 _“Five?”_ He looks taken aback, and then he laughs. “So, there’s me, Jace…who else?”

“Um. Raphael Santiago. He gave his back to me this morning. Also, Simon Lewis from archery camp…”

“He’s dating your sister, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.” Simon and I met at a summer archery camp, and found out that we both coincidentally lived in New York, but went to different schools. When we got home, we decided to meet up again, and I introduced him to my family while he introduced me to his best friend Clary. He and Isabelle hooked up soon after, and Jace met Clary at a birthday party at Simon’s that Isabelle and I dragged him along to. What must Simon have thought when he got his letter? Was I going to have to avoid him, too? Would he tell Isabelle? Would it destroy their relationship? What if he told _my parents?_ No, surely not – Simon’s a good guy, he wouldn’t do that to me. But still…

“So, me, Jace, Raphael and Simon,” Magnus says, counting off on his fingers. “Who’s the fifth guy?”

I shrug, realising that the fifth letter doesn’t really matter as it was addressed to a house in Los Angeles and the fifth guy almost certainly doesn’t live there now. “You probably don’t know him, but his name’s Mark Blackthorn,” I answer. Mark, with his pretty blue-green eyes and his lean, athletic frame and his oddly-shaped, almost pointed ears. I met him on vacation with my family, knew him just long enough for him to give me his address and phone number, and then I never saw him again. My attempts to call and text him went unanswered. I figured maybe he’d moved house, got a new phone or lost his old one – or he’d forgotten all about me. I sent him a Christmas card once, to his Los Angeles address, but it was returned with no reply. Admittedly, I myself had sort of forgotten about him until this morning. It hadn’t taken me very long to get over my childish crush on Mark Blackthorn.

“Huh.” Magnus appears to be deep in thought. “Okay. Well.” He finishes his coffee and pushes the cup away. “What’re you gonna do about all this, then?”

“I have absolutely no idea.” Over Magnus’s shoulder, I see a very recognisable blonde head coming in our direction. “Girlfriend alert. I’d better go.” On top of everything that’s happened since this morning, I _really_ can’t face Camille Belcourt. She’s probably mad at me for kissing her boyfriend, and everyone knows that when Camille is mad at you, you might as well start digging your grave.

“Wait,” Magnus says as I stand up, but I’m already rushing past customers, waitresses, cluttered tables with kids and their parents and high-schoolers with their friends and elderly couples clustered around them, towards the door without looking back, hoping Camille didn’t see me sitting with Magnus, grabbing my bike from where it was leaning against the railings outside the café and pedalling away furiously.

When I get home, I leave my bike in the front yard and run to my room, ignoring my mother’s shouted greeting and scolding for running. My room looks pretty much the same as when I left it, looking, as my mother would say, “like a tornado just hit it.” I pick my way carefully across piles of clothes strewn across the floor, going straight to my wardrobe, where I keep a small cardboard box hidden in a drawer. Is it gone? Did whoever take the letters _also_ take the box? Maybe my mother was cleaning and came across – but no, my room’s as messy as it was this morning, showing no signs that Mom tried to clean in here. Besides, she wouldn’t send a bunch of letters without my permission, would she?

Opening the drawer, I don’t have to look closely to see that the box is gone. The drawer is empty. I look around my room in the half-hearted hope that maybe it was discarded on the floor or left on the bedside table. It wasn’t. I find myself walking, running down the stairs, into the kitchen where the rest of my family are sitting at the table.

“So nice of you to join us, Alexander,” Mom says, rolling her eyes. I ignore this.

“There was a box in the wardrobe in my room. It had some stuff in it. Stuff I was writing. It’s not there anymore. Have any of you moved it or taken it?”

Isabelle shakes her head. My little brother Max does the same.

“I’m surprised you can find anything in that room.” This from Dad, who’s sitting at the head of the table reading some important-looking papers. “It’s a mess.”

“Well, it must be _somewhere,”_ I snap, deciding not to comment on this.

Mom pushes me into a chair and puts a plate in front of me. “Maybe you put it somewhere and forgot about it?”

“I wouldn’t _forget_ —”

I am abruptly cut off by the kitchen door swinging open. Oh, yeah. It appears that I temporarily forgot, in my panic, that Jace lived here too.

Jace moved in with us years ago when his parents died in a tragic accident, because my father is Jace’s godfather and therefore legally responsible for him should anything happen to Jace’s parents. When he moved in, that was when I realised I had a crush on him, and also when I realised I might like boys instead of girls. Brilliant, beautiful Jace. The golden boy. The best at everything. The sort of person who makes people love him so easily. Mom pulls a chair out for him, but instead of sitting down, he looks straight at me.

“Hey. We need to talk.”

There’s nowhere for me to run. Nowhere to hide. I consider excusing myself to go to the bathroom so I can hide in there until dinner is over, but that just seems stupid. Reluctantly, I get up and follow him out of the room, acutely aware of the curious eyes of my family watching us as the door closes behind us.

“So…that letter,” Jace says.

“Yeah.” I scrutinise his expression. He doesn’t look angry, annoyed, upset or weirded out. I guess it’s a good sign that he didn’t immediately start shouting at me once the door was closed. “I didn’t mean anything I wrote in there. It was a long time ago, we were kids, and I don’t feel that way about you anymore. But yes, if you’re wondering, I am gay.” It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud since I told Izzy. It feels good to say it, to get it off my chest.

“Cool. That’s cool. Awesome. I – I’m happy that you told me.” He pauses, then says, “The letter…was it in the box? The box you said was missing just now? You didn’t mean for me to see it, did you? If you kept it this long without giving it to me…and some of the stuff you wrote seemed pretty, umm, _personal_ …”

I wince. God, the stuff I wrote in those letters…why the hell did I address them? Why would anyone want to read them? “Yeah, it went missing this morning. There was, umm, some other stuff in there too. I thought I hid it pretty well…I guess not.”

Jace snorts, grinning. “I always said you were terrible at keeping secrets.” He nods, almost to himself, and then says, “So what was all that about with Magnus Bane?”

 _Ah._ “Well,” I say slowly. “Um. You see. I’m kind of – I’m dating Magnus Bane. We’re dating. Yeah. It’s…a thing that’s happening. Basically.”

Jace does a double take, which I have never seen anyone do in real life, but he does it now. “You? You and him?” he says, sounding even more dumbfounded than he looked in the corridor this morning. _“What?”_

A loud knock at the front door rudely interrupts this increasingly awkward conversation. Moving to open it, I find Simon Lewis standing on our doorstep, carrying a bouquet of flowers. For a heartbeat, I think he’s brought them for me, then I dismiss the ridiculous idea. Simon doesn’t have feelings for me – but he must be here about the letter.

“Hi,” he says. “I’m here for Isabelle? It’s date night tonight.” He gestures to the flowers. “Oh, and – Alec, I wanted to talk to you, too.”

“About the letter?” I ask.

“What letter?” Jace asks, and then, “Wait, you wrote him a letter too?”

Bloody hell. I did not sign up for this conversation.

“There was more than one letter,” I concede. I turn to Simon. “Yeah, sorry about that. I wrote it ages ago, I never meant for you to read it. I don’t like you – not that way – not anymore. Sorry if it made you feel awkward or uncomfortable. I know you like Izzy and she likes you back, and I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

Simon blinks, and then laughs. “No, it’s cool,” he says. “I liked it, kind of. It was nice.”

“We’re cool?” I say, both to him and to Jace.

“Yeah, we’re cool,” Jace says, but his eyes flick towards me, and I have a feeling this won’t be the last conversation we will ever have on this subject.

“We’re cool,” Simon agrees. He steps inside, closing the door behind him just as Izzy runs into the hall, having apparently had the time to go get changed into date-appropriate attire while we were talking. Simon’s eyes light up when he sees her. Something about the incredibly mushy way they are now staring at each other gives me a pain in my chest. I remember wanting boys - boys like Magnus Bane, specifically - to look at me like that. 


End file.
